"Oh fuck off, will you,"
I shot back under my breath as I stepped over another twitching leg, the chitin crunching like stepping on a burned potato chip.
"It's not my fault my perception's basically that of a ninety-year-old geriatric with cataracts and a grudge against depth perception."
Genesis floated along beside me, matching my pace without moving her legs because of course she didn't need to.
"Oh, I'm so sorry,"
She sneered.
"I didn't realize I was sharing brain space with a senile corpse who needs a prescription scope just to hit something that's actively screaming in his face."
"Hey, those flies were fast."
"They were in a fucking hallway."
"Which is basically a speed multiplier."
"That's not how physics..."
"...shut up."
She scoffed, folding her arms tighter, radiating the kind of irritation usually reserved for customer service reps and public transport. I ignored her and kept moving.
The corridor stretched ahead, narrow and choked with debris. Peeling wallpaper hung in long strips like dead skin.
The floor creaked with every step, boards complaining under my weight as if I was personally offending them. I started clearing rooms on the corridors sides, one by one. Cut the pie.
Lean. Check corners. Sweep low, then high. The first room was a bedroom. Collapsed ceiling. Moldy mattress. Something had nested in the dresser at some point and then died, judging by the smell.
Nothing moved. Second room: bathroom. Rusted tub. A cracked mirror that reflected my face in fractured pieces, sunken eyes, dust-streaked skin, and the faint smear of bug gore on my sleeve.
I wiped it off without thinking. Third room: kitchen. Empty cupboards. A fridge that I very deliberately did not open because I wasn't emotionally prepared for that kind of trauma.
Genesis kept muttering commentary the entire time.
"Your muzzle discipline is sloppy."
"Why are you breathing so loud?"
"That floorboard is going to rat you out."
"Oh good, another dark corner. Let's not check it."
I tuned her out because I was feeling sorry for my alcohol and nicotine soaked with a number of drugs brain cells, wait a moment scratch that these cells were still clean, well apart from nicotine.
I thought as I reached the fourth room. As I sliced the corner, rifle leading, something caught my eye, not movement, not sound but a shape.
Embedded into the floor near the far wall, half-hidden beneath a torn rug and dust, sat a rusted metal outline. A safe. I froze. Then my pupils practically turned into little credit symbols.
"Jackpot..."
I muttered to myself.
"Oh come on,"
Genesis groaned the second she noticed where my attention snapped.
"You cannot be serious."
I lowered the rifle without answering, already stepping into the room.
"You are in hostile territory,"
She snapped.
"You just fired a rifle, exploded several insects, and you're now, what shopping?"
"Relax,"
I muttered, kneeling beside the safe.
"This is called loot."
She hovered closer, staring down at it like it had personally offended her.
"That is called getting shot in the back while fondling dead people's belongings."
Ignoring the pain In the ass Genesis I brushed the dirt away, revealing the lock. Jammed into it were a bent bobby pin and a flathead screwdriver, both rusted but intact. I blinked.
"…wow."
Genesis stared.
"Do not tell me..."
"Someone was already halfway through robbing this place."
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I swear to whatever gods are still watching, if you get tetanus..."
I let the rifle hang from my chest, grabbed the pin and screwdriver, and leaned in close. My world shrank to sound and feel. The faint scrape of metal. The tension in my fingers.
The quiet tick of cooling air through broken walls. I turned. Slowly. Carefully. Genesis went quiet, watching despite herself. Click. The sound was soft. Delicate. Like the house sighing in resignation.
"Bingo..."
I muttered to myself as I opened it like a kid cracking open a Christmas present they'd already shaken six times. As I did a blue translucent window popped up immediately.
SAFE UNLOCKED+XP
I couldnt help but snort In amusement.
"…so I also get XP for basically committing robbery."
Genesis crossed her arms again.
"That's not technically a robbery since the owner Is long dead"
Hearing this I paused looked at her and then grinned.
"Good point"
I said, peering inside.
"This is basically archaeology."
Inside the safe were. Six 9.1 mm bullets, neatly stacked Inside a cartoon box, ten fat bundles of useless old cash, yellowed and mold-speckled. And a silver knife. Simple. Clean. Still sharp.
I grabbed the bullets immediately, barely sparing the cash a glance.
"Really?"
Genesis asked.
"You're just leaving the money, I thought money was all you cared about?"
"I do"
I said flatly.
"But Its not like I can just go to a bank In my new timeline and say here Its cash from another timeline please exchange It for this ones."
She huffed but didn't argue. I hesitated on the knife, then In the end pocketed, after all silver could still fetch a good price.
I stood, grabbed the rifle, then popped the magazine attached to the rifles left side free. Five empty slots stared back at me. I slid the bullets in one by one. Solid clicks. Comforting. Mechanical.
Finished, I seated the mag back into the rifle, It was full again and I even had an extra spare bullet, things were never better. Genesis watched me, expression unreadable.
"…see?"
I said.
"Im efficient as fuck"
She stared for a second longer, then sighed.
"I fucking hate you dude"
I grinned faintly and turned back toward the corridor, rifle up, It didnt take long before I stepped out of the house whistling quietly to myself.
The kind of off-key tune you hum when you've just turned a nightmare hallway into a net profit. The door creaked shut behind me like it was glad to see me go. Cold air hit my face.
I paused, rifle resting low, and scanned the street. Left to right. Two houses across the way were basically abstract art.
Collapsed roofs, walls blown outward, nothing but skeletal frames and rubble. Worthless. Even the apocalypse had written them off. Then I saw it. One house further down. Still standing.
Windows more or less intact If you didnt count the clear as day bullet holes. Roof sagging but not caved. The kind of place that whispered I still have secrets. My grin crept back.
"…guess you're next,"
I muttered to myself fondly. Genesis groaned in my head.
"Oh for fucks sake no. Not that tone. That's the 'I'm about to do something stupid for loot again' tone."
I ignored her and started moving, boots crunching over gravel and glass as I beelined for it. The walk took a few minutes. Long enough for paranoia to start tapping me on the shoulder.
I slowed as I approached, rifle up again, eyes flicking to windows, doorways, shadows. Nothing moved. No buzzing. No skittering. No gunfire. I stepped Inside.
Inside, the house felt quiet. Not ominous quiet. Just empty. Same smell as the last one, dust, mold, stale air, but cleaner somehow. Less violence.
The layout was familiar: living room, hallway, kitchen, bedrooms. I cleared it room by room anyway. Habit. Muscle memory. Nothing jumped me. Nothing exploded.
Genesis looked almost disappointed. Then I noticed the basement door.
A simple wooden thing, slightly ajar, sunlight spilling down through cracks in the ceiling above and holes in the floorboards overhead.
"…oh what a surprise a basement,"
Genesis muttered.
"Of course there's a fucking basement."
I descended slowly, steps creaking but holding.
The light down there was weird, shafts of gold cutting through floating dust motes, illuminating concrete walls and old shelves like some ruined cathedral to bad decisions. And there it was.
A safe. Just sitting there. Open. I froze.
"…no fucking way,"
I whispered as I bolted forward. Literally sprinted the last few steps like a lunatic, skidding to my knees in front of it. Inside, gleaming like they'd been waiting just for me were four fucking gold bars.
There was also a silver pocket watch, old but pristine. A small paper ammo box, and an IV bag lying beside the safe, half-buried in dust. Seeing all this my depraved brain short-circuited.
I grabbed the gold bars first, stuffing them into my pants pockets one after another, laughing under my breath like I'd finally snapped.
"Fuck me,"
I hissed, giddy.
"I'm officially fucking rich."
Genesis stared, arms crossed, deadpan.
"Please don't say that out loud again."
I didn't even hear her. I scooped up the pocket watch next, flipping it open. Still ticking. I pocketed it with reverence, like it might bite me if I didn't. Next: the ammo box. I popped it open.
Six 9.1 mm rounds. I blinked.
"…tch why the fuck does It feel like someone left just enough to fucking mock me?"
I couldnt help but mutter only to shrug the next second.